


Russian Roulette

by DarkFairytale



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Everywhere, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Forgot to mention the angst, Gambling, Gun Violence, Human Trafficking, Hurt Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortal Husbands Yo, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It ain't all doom and gloom promise, Kidnapping, M/M, Russian Roulette, Some Humor, Temporary Character Death, Threat to children but no harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkFairytale/pseuds/DarkFairytale
Summary: When a mission takes an unexpected turn Joe and Nicky find themselves forced into a deadly game of chance in which one of them has to lose before both of them can win.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 27
Kudos: 420





	Russian Roulette

**Author's Note:**

> Ok Old Guardians I am back with another story and one day I will write pure fluff but what immortality provides us is a gold mine of possible whump and hurt/comfort possibilities which we must harvest to its full potential. So here's a Russian Roulette offering. (And yes, this may have partially been inspired by the fact that Christopher Walken's character in The Deer Hunter is called Nicky/Nick. It got into my head and wouldn't leave.)
> 
> Warnings, obviously, for everything to do with Russian Roulette, which includes holding a gun to your own head and pulling the trigger, and what is sometimes called 'Russian Poker': pointing a gun at someone else and pulling the trigger. The mission involves rescuing a group of young women and children that have been kidnapped for trafficking, so warning for that as well. If there are any warning tags you think need adding, just let me know.

August 2020, Macedonia Greece

“Blades,” Joe said.

“Yes, mainly blades, the first few times,” Nicky agreed.

Joe cocked his head thoughtfully and casually leaned his chair back from the table until it was balanced on the two back legs. “I actually lost count of how many times.”

“Yes. So did I,” Nicky admitted, watching Joe from the opposite side of the table, mouth tilted into a smile, “There were a few arrows mixed in, of course.”

Joe grinned, and put his hands back behind his head, the picture of nonchalance, “I was Nicky’s favourite target,” he informed Nile.

“And then there was the time with the wall,” Nicky’s eyebrow ticked up ever so slightly, “You pushed me off the top of it.”

“Oh yes, so I did. You dragged me with you but I landed on top of you, so technically I still killed you that time. You just broke a few of my bones.”

Nile was beginning to regret asking.

She had innocently asked Joe and Nicky about how they had met and what ‘killing each other many times’ consisted of. Clearly they had had centuries’ enough time to process their differences and the many times they had harmed each other, and maybe in their privacy they were more apologetic and solemn about their numerous killings of the other, but in the presence of the team they talked about it unaffected, actually smiling about it like they were recounting fond memories.

“It was almost a challenge to us by the time we resorted to the rocks.”

“Rocks?” Nile repeated flatly, eyeing Andy.

Andy shrugged back at her in a way that clearly communicated ‘ _well, you asked’._ “Rocks,” Andy confirmed, “And then there was the strangling.”

“Oh!” Joe snapped his fingers and pointed at Andy, “I had forgotten about the strangling!”

Nile _really_ regretted asking. She decided to steer them back into less morbid territory. “But you guys figured it out.”

“Eventually,” Joe said softly, watching Nicky in that warm, devoted way he always did, “Thankfully.”

“It took a long time for me to come to terms with the realities of the Crusade,” Nicky admitted, not hiding the guilt that blossomed in his expression, “What my people had done and I had done alongside them and what the army did after I abandoned it…all those innocent people...”

Joe’s chair dropped back onto four legs as he leaned over the table to cover Nicky’s hand with his own. “But we figured it out together,” Joe told Nile, without taking his eyes from Nicky, “The forgiveness; Nicky to forgive himself, for me to forgive him, and for us to forgive each other for our endless death match.” Joe seemed to wait for Nicky to send him another soft little smile and tangle his fingers with Joe’s in thanks, before Joe brightened visibly and sent a grin to Andy, instantly lightening the mood again, “By the time Andy and Quynh found us Nicky and I were on relatively good terms.”

“Which was a surprise,” Andy added drily, “Since our dreams of you two mostly comprised of you both getting more and more creative in your ways of killing each other.”

“Well we had to up our ante,” Joe said, and winked at Nicky, “Nicky hates to be outdone.”

Nicky rolled his eyes in response but did not deny it, “This is true,” he said.

“So when exactly was the last time…” Nile started to ask, before stopping herself.

“The last time…?” Nicky encouraged her, “It is ok for you to ask, Nile. We are family now. You must not feel that you cannot ask us something, even if we might not necessarily be able to answer.”

So Nile finished her question, a little tentatively; “So when exactly was the last time you, you know, killed each other?”

Neither of them looked offended, merely thoughtful.

Joe rubbed idly at his beard as he pondered, “I am pretty sure that we first killed each other and last killed each other in 1099. We fitted a lot of killing each other in over a very short period of time so…”

“1981,” Nicky said.

Nile stared at them. Joe looked confused, and even Andy looked surprised.

“1981?” Joe asked, bewildered, “Nicolò, we did not…”

“You didn’t,” Nicky said, “I did. 1981. Texas. Russian Roulette.”

Nile’s mouth dropped open, but before she could even ask how and why Joe and Nicky had been playing a game of god forsaken _Russian Roulette_ Joe waved Nicky’s words aside, finally looking serious. “That was extenuating circumstances, Nicolò. You shooting me was not your fault.” 

“I still pointed a gun at you and pulled the trigger,” Nicky said. He didn’t look or sound distressed, just factual, like he had long since internalised the incident as his fault and come to terms with it.

“That does not count,” Joe said adamantly, sharing a look with Andy. “You didn’t kill me with intent to kill me.”

“He’s right Nicky,” Andy agreed, “That one doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count,” Joe repeated with finality, his tone of voice suggesting that he and Nicky were going to be having further discussion about it as soon as they were alone.

“How the hell,” Nile said, “Did you two end up playing Russian Roulette?”

“We were…” Nicky deliberated the words, “It was during a mission.”

Nile frowned at his choice of words and the look on his face, “But that’s good right? I mean, you’d just win it.”

Nicky’s lips ticked up into a smile and Nile was pleased to have been the one to stop him looking so solemn, “That is what Joe said at the time. ‘Finally,’ he said, ‘a game we can win’.”

Nile thought it over further, “Oh right, but if one of you died…”

Joe snorted a laugh and he also finally broke into another grin, “And that is what Nicky said.”

***

May 1981, Texas USA

“ _Oh this is new_ ,” Nicky heard Joe say in Arabic, because they knew for sure that their captors would not understand the language, “ _This is a new one, Nico_.”

They had both been blindfolded and Nicky had been forced into a chair. From Joe’s voice, it sounded like Joe had been seated opposite him, and from his words, Nicky assumed Joe had had his blindfold removed first.

“ _What is it_?” Nicky asked back. His question was answered for him when his own blindfold was snatched off and he laid eyes on the table that separated him and Joe. In the centre lay an old fashioned style of revolver. And one bullet.

Russian Roulette. They had heard of the deadly game of chance before of course; word of it had first sprung up properly in the 1800s, long before it had even been coined as ‘Russian Roulette’. But the inclusion of Russian Roulette in popular media like the film 'The Deer Hunter', that had been released a few years before, had made it an increasingly popular game of chance with youths in the USA; and apparently its crime bosses too.

“ _Finally_ ,” Joe said, sticking to Arabic, and Nicky glanced up at him to see Joe putting on a smug smirk for their captors. Joe and Nicky tended to banter like this if they were ever taken captive; it put their captors at unease because it made them feel like Nicky and Joe were still in control of the situation. Nicky could tell that their casualness was already making their armed guards uncomfortable even if the guards couldn't understand what they were saying. “ _A game we will always win_.”

Nicky just about refrained from rolling his eyes, “ _What about if one of us dies, Joe_?” If one of them died and came back to life and these people noticed? They weren’t going to let them go after that. Nicky and Joe would be in big, big trouble.

“There’s still a chance we won’t if the bullet is in the sixth chamber,” Joe pointed out in English, eyes dropping to the gun and back up again, “It will take me a minute to figure out the exact odds.”

“So long as we have a shot,” Nicky quipped, and Joe’s eyes lit up with mirth a second before their adversary entered the room.

***

August 2020, Macedonia Greece

“There was a human trafficking ring operating on the Texas-Mexico border,” Andy explained to Nile, “Young women and children were being kidnapped and trafficked. We had figured out who was behind it; a gang who also ran drugs and controlled several underground gambling joints that specialised in dog fights, cock fights, that kind of thing. The gang’s leader was called Morgan, if I remember correctly?”

“Vincent Morgan,” Joe confirmed, “He was Texan, owned land there, so their main base was inside the Texas border.”

“We had a plan to take down the gang and its establishments,” Nicky continued, “But found out there was going to be a mass moving of a group of kidnapped women and children, so we brought our plans forward to include their rescue. We found out where they were being held and succeeded in taking out their guards and freeing them.”

“The problem was,” Joe picked up (Nile had noticed that the team did this often when telling a story; seamlessly picking up the threads of the story from each other and sharing the narration back and forth), “That it was only after we freed the women and children that we found out that the gang leader had taken a small group of victims to keep at his main gambling ring as ‘collateral’,” Joe used his fingers to quote ‘collateral’, looking and sounding disgusted.

“We had planned to take the gang down that night,” Andy took over again, “But only after we had gotten the women and children to a safe and secure location. The new information meant we had to change our plan. Booker and I took charge of helping those we had freed, while Joe and Nicky headed to the buildings we knew were the main base of the gang itself.”

“The new plan was that Joe and I would find a way into the building and find out where the women and children were being held,” Nicky said, “If we could rescue them and destroy the gang without bringing harm to the hostages then we would. But if that was not possible we decided that we would cause a distraction to the gang, keep them busy long enough for Andy and Booker to arrive and provide backup. If they arrived and there was no sign of us, they would know that we and the women and children were still inside and that they should try to get to the hostages and get them out before sending us a sign so that we could get to work without risk of any innocents being injured or killed. And if that was not possible, that Andy and Booker would cause a distraction from the outside, split attentions, and make it easier for us to split and pick off the gang.”

“Unfortunately when we got into the building,” Joe finished by revealing what Nile had already guessed, “There was no sign of any women or children. We realised that the gang leader was probably keeping them close, so to even get close to finding out where they were and rescuing them…”

“You had to get yourselves captured to keep them busy long enough for Andy and Booker to back you up.”

“Yes,” Nicky said, “We hoped that us arriving separately would still catch them off guard, and that if Andy and Booker started to attack from the outside, we would be in a better position to find out where the hostages were being held and get them out.”

“So we got ourselves captured,” Joe said, “And then things took a bit of a roulette turn.”

***

May 1981, Texas USA

“I hear you’ve liberated my stock,” Victor Morgan, the leader of the crime ring, said as he entered the room, “You’ve cost me a fuck load of money, boys.”

“ _Stock_ ,” Joe repeated, sickened, keeping to Arabic, catching Nicky’s eye as he did, “ _He’s calling those children_ stock _, Nicky_.” They were going to destroy this man.

One of the armed guards muttered something that Joe didn’t catch, but gathered it was possibly something racist and derogatory about him, because Nicky shot out of his seat as quickly as the words were said and turned on the man fiercely before he was shoved back down into the chair, a gun at his head.

“You think we are afraid of you?” Nicky asked disdainfully in English, his lip curling.

“No I don’t think you are, but you will be,” Vincent Morgan promised as he gestured to someone through the door, “And no, I don’t think you are afraid for yourselves; you’ve proved you’re bat-shit crazy by even thinking that you’d be able to cross me. I do think you’re afraid for them though, right?” He looked to the doorway.

Joe turned his gaze slowly to see that two armed men were holding two children in front of them, guns pointed at them; a little boy and girl, eyes wide and terrified.

“Shit,” Joe said, as Nicky started to softly reassure the children in Spanish as they were ushered back into the corridor again and held there.

“Shut up,” Morgan snarled and slapped Nicky’s face. Joe launched himself forwards but a gun was pressed to his forehead by one of the armed men and the pressure of it guided him back into his seat. “If you two don’t do as you’re told,” Morgan threatened, “If you try to turn the gun on us or fight your way out I’ll kill these two first, and then the others, understand?”

“And what is it exactly that you want us to do?” Joe asked through gritted teeth.

“I think you’ve already guessed that,” Morgan gestured to the lonely revolver with its lonely bullet, “You’re going to play Russian Roulette, and you are going to earn me back the money I’ve lost on the stock you let go.”

“Don’t call them stock,” Joe snapped, “They are children. _Women_ and _children_.”

Morgan grabbed Joe by the collar and pulled him in to snarl into his face, “And for that insightful observation,” he said, “You can go first.” He shoved Joe back and picked up the revolver, putting a bullet into the swing-out cylinder, spinning it and snapping it back.

He did not immediately hand Joe the revolver. More men had been let into the room and had begun making bets on who would win the game. Joe met Nicky’s eyes. They knew they would survive this, but that might end up being a major problem. And it wasn’t ever pleasant having to watch the love of their lives die right before their eyes, helpless to stop it. They always had each other’s six, but now they were going to have to look each other in the eye as they pulled the trigger on themselves.

“ _The two just outside the door_ ,” Nicky said softly in Arabic as the bets continued to be called out and money handed over, “ _Others somewhere else_.”

“ _Somewhere close_ ,” Joe replied, “ _I think he’ll be keeping them somewhere close_.”

“ _I agree. That is good, if the others have to fight their way in to us, we know the victims aren't going to be caught in the crossfire near the entrances_.”

Joe hummed in agreement. “ _We haven’t died by a game of chance like this before_.”

“ _No_ ,” Nicky said, “ _Because we are not fools_.”

Joe cocked an eyebrow, “ _I am a fool for you_.”

Nicky rolled his eyes fondly, and some of the tenseness softened around his eyes, which had been Joe’s main aim. “ _You are incurable_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Joe said, “ _But let us hope I am cured from this bullet, hmm_?”

“ _Odds are it won’t be the first chamber_ ,” Nicky said.

“ _Want to bet_?” Joe asked grimly, as the betting quietened down and ended around them.

The revolver was forced into Joe’s fingers.

“We want to make a deal,” Nicky said abruptly in English, eyes fixing uncompromisingly on Morgan, “If both of us survive this game, we get to walk out of here with all of the women and the children you have held here.”

Morgan laughed long and obnoxiously loud, “Sure why not?” he said as the other gamblers and armed men laughed as well, “The odds are miniscule so sure, why not? If by some tiny chance both of you make it to the last chamber, I’ll let you walk.”

“Well, on that note,” Joe said, lifting the revolver to his own head, “Let’s not waste any time shall we?”

Morgan and the onlookers instantly looked surprised that Joe was being so blasé about it, and Joe caught Nicky’s little headshake, reminding him that they couldn’t let these people know that they did not fear death like mortal men. And, of course, that the whole purpose of being captured in the first place was to distract and waste enough time for Andy and Booker to arrive. 

“Joe…” Nicky said, voice soft, his captivating blue-green eyes holding Joe’s so sadly, and Joe suddenly found the idea of pulling the trigger that bit harder.

“Don’t watch,” Joe said, “Nicky, don’t watch.”

“I have to,” Nicky said, “I won’t leave you.”

Joe clenched his jaw, and he pulled the trigger. There was a click as the empty chamber moved on. He saw the open relief in Nicky’s eyes at not having to watch Joe shoot himself, and Joe let out a tiny, shaky breath, putting the gun down on the table.

“Give it to your boyfriend,” Morgan said.

Joe’s jaw ticked and he opened his mouth to let Morgan know that Nicky was not his boyfriend, that he was _everything_ , all and more, but he saw Nicky shake his head again and Nicky’s hand reaching for the gun.

“Nicky,” Joe protested both for being quietened and at the sight of Nicky lifting the revolver to his head. It was far worse seeing Nicky hold the gun to his head than it had felt holding it to his own, “Nicky…”

“Hey!” someone from the crowd jeered, “Wasn’t Christopher Walken’s character in 'The Deer Hunter' called Nicky?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Joe snapped as the other men laughed, “This isn’t some fucking film, alright? These are real lives you’re messing with.”

“Joe…” Nicky’s soft voice drew him back, “It’s ok, Joe.”

Joe gripped the edge of the table, locking his eyes back on Nicky’s, “ _Just until the others get here_ ,” Joe reminded them both in Arabic, “ _Just until the others get here_.”

“ _For the children_ ,” Nicky agreed, the corner of his mouth lifting just a fraction into the ghost of a smile as he held Joe’s gaze and kept the revolver steady against his head.

Nicky pulled the trigger. His eye twitched as the empty click sounded, and that was the only tick his expression gave away as he stoically put down the gun, even as Joe let out an audible breath of relief at not seeing Nicky killed. His heart had leapt when he had seen Nicky pull the trigger; no matter how many times he had had to watch Nicky die, it would never hurt him any less.

“Pick it up,” Morgan demanded of Joe.

Joe did so slowly, still attempting to draw out the game for as long as possible so that Andy and Booker had enough time to arrive and help them take the bastards down. He made his hand start to tremor, made a show of it; he knew he was a good enough actor to pull it off. The revolver was shaking slightly as he lifted it up this time. He kept his eyes wide, increasingly scared, as any mortal would be about the fact that their chances had gone from five empty chambers to just three.

Nicky could tell what Joe was doing, Joe could see it in Nicky’s eyes, which watched him back, so full of pride, and of sadness at having to do this, to witness this.

“You can do this, Joe. Joe, look at me…” Nicky started up, like he was encouraging Joe to do something Joe could have done instantly, instead helping him to draw it out, “It’s ok. I promise you, it’s ok…”

Joe pulled the trigger with a noise of adrenaline forced through gritted teeth, but once again was met with an empty chamber. It was not so much of a relief that time, because Joe realised that Nicky’s chances of not shooting himself in the head less than a metre from Joe’s eyes had just gotten smaller again.

Joe put the revolver down slowly but did not push it towards Nicky. Nicky moved to reach for it, only for Morgan to point his gun at Nicky and usher him back.

“I’ve decided to make this more exciting,” he announced, “Since you both seem abnormally close. You,” he ordered Joe “You fire at him.”

“No,” Joe said immediately, instinctively. There was the cry of a child at the door as one of them was grabbed roughly and Joe immediately snatched up the revolver “Alright,” he said, panic edging his voice, “Alright I’ll do it, leave the children alone. Leave them alone!”

But in order to get the men to leave the children alone, Joe was going to have to point the gun at Nicky and pull the trigger.

***

August 2020, Macedonia Greece

“Shit,” Nile exclaimed, horrified, “He ordered you to turn the gun on each other.”

Joe nodded, “I was fine pointing the gun at my own head, but they were asking me to point it at my heart instead.” Joe’s dark eyes were wide and shining with the memory of it as he looked at Nicky. Nicky abruptly stood and rounded the table to take the seat next to Joe instead, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his head, presumably where a revolver barrel had once rested, decades ago.

Nile looked at Andy, “How far away were you at that point?”

“We had dropped the women and children off with the charity aid workers and agents we had been working for, who eventually reunited them with their families.”

“All of them?”

Andy nodded, “All of them who had families to go back to. The others were taken into care and were found new homes. We made sure of it. The people we worked with updated us.”

“And the children in the building with Nicky and Joe?”

“Them too,” Andy promised, “We got them too.”

“How?” Nile asked. Nile had been on some risky missions with the marines, and in her short time as a member of the Old Guard, but she had never been so hopelessly backed into a corner as that. “What did you and Booker do when you got to the base and there was no sign of Nicky, Joe or the hostages?”

“We knew something was wrong,” Andy said, “And that Nicky and Joe were going to act as distraction until we could arrive. There wasn’t any sound or sign of violence or gunshots so we presumed whatever they were doing was working.” She shrugged. “So we decided to cause a distraction of our own.”

But Nile remembered what Nicky had said about shooting Joe. She looked at Joe and Nicky, “But Andy and Booker weren’t fast enough to stop Joe from losing the game of Russian Roulette?”

“The odds were looking so good for me at that time as well,” Joe sighed dramatically, and Nicky held him that little bit tighter as Joe reached up to clasp Nicky’s upper arm in support. “It just happens that Nicky has the surest shot of all of us. He never misses.” He looked so proud of the fact. “And apparently in a game of Russian Roulette that’s no different.”

***

May 1981, Texas USA

“ _We haven’t killed each other in nearly nine hundred years_ ,” Joe told Nicky, finally feeling panicked, “ _I don’t want to kill you. I can’t hurt you again. I won’t hurt you again_.”

Nicky’s heart broke at the look on Joe’s face. Only someone who knew Joe as well as Nicky did would be able to tell that the feigned fear Joe had been putting on earlier as an act had given away to real desperation and horror at potentially killing Nicky.

“ _You won’t_ ,” Nicky told him, trying to sound and look calm, as calm as he could, but his voice trembled slightly around the Arabic, filled with pain for the distress and anguish in his love’s face. “ _Joe, Yusuf, I promise you. I promise you it is ok. This is not…you are not choosing this. You are doing this for the lives of children and I understand and I love you. I love you_.”

“ _I love you_ ,” Joe whispered back. When he lifted the revolver this time, Nicky had no doubt that the tremor of his grip was real.

There were yells and jeers from the men around them, ordering them to hurry up, to do it already, to pull the trigger, to blow Nicky’s brains out already.

Nicky paid them no mind. He looked into Joe’s beautiful brown eyes and waited for his love to do the right thing. And as always, Joe never let him down. Joe pulled the trigger. Nicky flinched as it clicked, empty.

“Fuck,” Joe choked out, dropping the revolver to the table and dropping his head into his hands.

“Fuck,” Nicky murmured to himself, because there were only two chambers left. There was a fifty fifty chance that the next one had a bullet in. A fifty fifty chance that Joe would die on the next shot.

“You. Pick it up,” Morgan ordered of Nicky.

Nicky glanced up and saw Joe come to the same realisation, looking at Nicky through his fingers. Nicky held Joe’s gaze as he reached out and picked up the revolver.

Joe took his hands away from his face and sent Nicky a weak smile, “I like my chances,” Joe offered.

“Fifty fifty,” Nicky reminded him grimly, already grinding his teeth together. He closed his eyes and tried to remain calm, tried to keep the fury at bay, remind himself of the lives that were at stake.

“ _Fifty fifty I die_ ,” Joe agreed, “ _Ninety-nine point nine percent chance I will be back_.” He winked.

Nicky choked back what either was going to be a laugh or a sob. “ _You are a wonder, my heart_.”

Joe smiled back, soft and understanding, eyes always so expressive of every little emotion he was feeling. He wore his heart on his sleeve and in his eyes, his Yusuf.

“ _I love you Joe_ ,” Nicky said, just as Joe had, as he lifted the revolver, “ _And I’m sorry_.”

“ _I love you Nicolò_ ,” Joe returned, “ _And I know_.”

Nicky pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Joe in the centre of his forehead and he died right there on the table.

Nicky choked with the shock and the pure, horrified guilt of it and as the room erupted into cheers from those who had bet on Nicky to win and the complaints of those that had bet on Joe, Nicky threw himself across the table to grab as Joe’s lifeless arm, trying not to look at the blood trailing down his forehead, at his lifeless eyes.

The guilt. The guilt he felt. He and Joe had promised each other that they would never kill each other ever again. They had vowed it the first time they had finally realised that they trusted each other, with each other’s lives, with neither of them truly understanding the other feelings they were harbouring that would later lead them to trusting each other with each other’s hearts as well. Nicky had promised never to hurt Joe again, and now he had. Joe had died by Nicky’s hand.

“ _Yusuf_ ,” he begged, “ _Yusuf I’m so sorry I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you Joe..._ ”

A hand grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back, Nicky fought against the grip. The fury was descending. That cold rage that at one time, centuries ago, rose at the sight of the man on the battlefield that Nicky just couldn’t _kill_ , but for hundreds of years since burned on behalf of that man and that man above all others; the need to protect him, to avenge him, to repay his sacrifices.

Joe was dead on the table, and Nicky was going to kill everybody in the room with his bare hands if he had to.

“Looks like you’re the lucky one,” Vincent Morgan told him, “Or not. I haven’t decided quite what I’m going to do with you yet.”

“You have had your game, you have made back your money,” Nicky snarled in his face, “Let the children and women go.”

Morgan made a show of looking like he was considering it, “Or I could keep them,” he suggested, “And keep you, and play you in another game of Roulette.”

Nicky knew it would be a matter of moments before Joe would come back to life again, and Nicky needed to keep Morgan’s focus. The gamblers had filed out of the room, but the six armed men and the children were still there. Nicky saw it, the second Joe’s healing skull forced out the bullet, and Nicky abruptly stood up, drawing everyone’s attention; none of them thought to worry about keeping an eye on the dead man.

With Nicky in Morgan’s face, snarling, and the armed men forcing him back and away, shouting, nobody but Nicky noticed Joe gasp quietly back to consciousness and quickly snatch the bullet that had fallen onto the table into his hand and continue to play dead, taking stock through his eyelashes of the situation in the room.

“Or maybe I will just kill you,” Morgan threatened, getting right up in Nicky’s face, before one of the armed men slammed the butt of his rifle against Nicky’s head with such force that it sent him to his knees.

It was probably a good job, Nicky figured, as it meant he remained steadier than everyone else when the building was rocked by an explosion.

Promptly, Joe sat up in his seat and said to Nicky “I think that was the signal.”

Nicky noted with morbid satisfaction the looks of shock and confusion and terror on Morgan and his men’s faces at the sight of the dead man sitting up and talking, before he burst into action. He rushed for the children, picking them up before any of the men could aim their guns. Nicky bodily protected the little girl and boy, taking bullets in the back. He did not see Joe disarm the nearest man to him, but he heard shots going off behind him as he rounded the wall and out of the range of fire, ushering the children into the shelter of another doorway.

“Stay here,” he told them, “I’ll be back. I promise.”

He then straightened up and turned right back around and strode back into the room. He took out the first man who had pursued him and the children with a whip-sharp punch and snatched up his gun and shot him, before neatly putting a bullet in the two men left standing; Joe had already killed the rest.

Nicky took Joe’s face in his hand and Joe pushed forwards to kiss him, quick and fierce. They did not have time for anything else, even though Nicky felt the apologies building and ready to spill from his mouth. “Morgan?” Nicky asked.

Joe pointed at him. The man was dead. He had fallen down beside the table, and had five bullet holes in his body.

“For each shot we had to fire,” Joe shrugged.

Nicky shot the dead man one more time, “Six chambers,” Nicky explained.

Joe made an exaggeratedly considering face before nodding in agreement. Nicky would have laughed, if he could take his eyes off the blood staining Joe’s forehead. But there wasn’t time.

Nicky led the way out of the room and was thankful that the children had stayed exactly where he had asked them to. He knelt down to their level, knowing that Joe was watching his back, “Thank you for waiting for us,” he told them, “My name is Nicky. This is Joe. Do you know where the other children are? Can you take us to them so we can help them too?”

The little boy shied away, but the little girl nodded, and took Nicky’s hand. They had surely seen glimpses of what had happened in that room, but neither of them seemed scared of Nicky or Joe, and Nicky was thankful that the children trusted that they were there to help them. 

The little girl led Nicky along, and Nicky moved and guided the boy along too, who did not pull away from him, and instead curled his fingers in the hem of Nicky’s shirt. Nicky swallowed back the tsunami of emotions that were threatening to break him down, and pushed them away. Later. There were more urgent matters. He had to focus. Nicky had Joe’s blood on his hands even if he couldn’t see it there. But Joe was at his shoulder, gun in hand. He was alive. And for now that was all that mattered.

They rescued the rest of the children and women being held hostage, and by then it didn’t take long for Booker and Andy to find them. Their brother and sister had already cleared the rest of the building. There was no-one left to fight, just people left to save.

“What happened?” Andy asked, stepping forward to take hold of Joe’s chin and tilt his head to inspect the blood on his face.

“Russian Roulette,” Joe said.

Booker whistled low, “No way,” and Nicky could see the understanding dawn in Booker’s face as he looked at the position of the blood on Joe’s head and realised that Joe likely hadn’t shot himself. Almost immediately Booker took hold of Nicky’s wrist, “Nicky, you ok?”

“I will be when everyone is safe and we are back at the house,” Nicky said.

He ignored the concerned look Andy gave him - having come to the same realisation as Booker - but he could not ignore Joe as Joe turned to him, clearly upset at Nicky’s obvious pain, and his hand came up to touch at the holes in the back of his shirt left by the bullets that Nicky had taken to protect the children.

“Nicky…” Joe said softly, “I…”

“We can fill each other in on what happened at the house,” Andy ordered, and Nicky knew by the look she was sending him that it would be talked about, and that he would be reassured of his innocence whether he liked it or not.

Booker clucked his tongue and shoved himself into Joe’s space to use his sleeve to rub the dried blood off Joe’s forehead.

“Thanks Book,” Joe said, because they all knew Booker had done it not just for Joe’s benefit, but so that Nicky wasn’t looking at the evidence any longer.

Booker patted Joe’s face with his usual level of brotherly affection before turning around and widening his arms, immediately capturing the attention of the children.

“Hello everyone. My name is Booker,” Booker said, “Let’s get you all out of here shall we? Follow me.”

Andy followed, speaking quietly and supportively to the three young women that had been with the children.

That left Joe and Nicky to walk behind them.

“So,” Joe said, and Nicky could tell from his tone that the words of love and reassurance would come later; for now Joe was keeping light spirited for the sake of the rescue and mission, “That’s another experience to tick off the let’s-not-do-that-again list.”

Nicky hummed in agreement.

“At least we won though,” Joe tried again.

Nicky felt the guilt build once more. “You didn’t win.”

“Alright, Mr Competitive,” Joe teased carefully, “But I’m just saying, you made that deal with Morgan that if both of us survived the game, we got to walk out with the hostages, and we technically _did_ both survive the game, so that's exactly what we're doing.”

“I suppose so,” Nicky allowed.

“Hey,” Joe caught his arm and stopped them for a moment, lifting his hand to trace the backs of his fingers gently down Nicky’s cheek, holding his gaze so earnestly Nicky was helpless to do anything but listen to him, “What was it you said when I had to point the gun at you? You said I was not choosing to do it. That I was doing it for the lives of the children and that you understood and that you love me. Did you mean all of that when you said it to me?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why do you think it is any different for you?” Joe insisted, “You did not choose it. You saved these children’s lives doing it. I understand. And I love you.”

Joe always knew what to say. Nicky felt an ounce of the guilt lift and he nodded, grasping Joe’s hand where it had come to rest on his cheek and turning his head to press a kiss to his fingers.

“Come on,” Joe said, and Nicky felt warmed as Joe slung his arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, “Let’s catch up to the others and get out of here. The mission isn’t over yet.”

***

August 2020, Macedonia Greece

“So as you can see,” Joe told Nile, “Nicky did not, in fact, kill me in 1981.” He levelled a look at Nicky. “Nicky,” he insisted, “The last time you killed me was with the dagger in my heart in 1099. Not with a bullet in the head in 1981. Is that not correct?”

“You know,” Nile commented “Most couples argue about what they last watched on Netflix, not about when they last killed each other.”

“Yes, well,” Joe waved her words aside with proud smile, “We are not like other couples.”

Nile rolled her eyes, “You don’t need to tell me that.”

Joe was watching Nicky closely, “Nicky?”

Nicky held up his hands as he conceded, “The last time I killed Joe was in 1099.”

Joe nodded, satisfied, and turned to Nile. “1099. So now you know, and you got an exciting Russian Roulette story out of it as well.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it an 'exciting' story.”

Nile caught Andy shrugging, like it sounded more exciting than other stories they could tell, but Nile decided she had heard plenty of morbid scenarios for one night.

“Fair point,” Joe allowed, “We did decide never to play it again.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

“Yes,” Nicky agreed, “Definitely for the best.”

“Though,” Andy piped up thoughtfully, “There was that one time I…”

Nile groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

***

Joe was watching Nicky closely as they prepared for bed. After the revelation that evening that Nicky still blamed himself for Joe dying in 1981, Joe was glad that they had the privacy of their own room for the night.

“I did not know you still held such guilt within you, my heart,” Joe said quietly.

“I don’t carry it always,” Nicky promised, “But when Nile asked when the last time was, it rose up again unbidden. It happens sometimes.”

Joe was halfway through undressing, and so was Nicky, but Joe abandoned his change of t-shirt so that he could step close and draw Nicky against him. Skin pressed against skin.

“You must calm that mind of yours,” Joe murmured, pressing a kiss into Nicky’s hair, smoothing his hands down Nicky’s sides, “Don’t carry such weights. You didn’t kill me. Morgan did. You know that.”

“I know,” Nicky sighed, “I do know it,” he leaned forward to rest his head against Joe’s shoulder, lips pressed to his skin. “Sometimes you forgive so quickly I forget that I haven’t truly forgiven myself.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Joe said, “I would take a bullet for you always.” But when that did not result in the expected response and Nicky just held him tighter, Joe tried again, “Is that what you require, my love?” he asked softly, “My forgiveness? For something that happened decades ago that was already forgiven and forgotten? I will do it, Nicolò, but if that is the case then I will require your forgiveness for that accidental ricochet death of yours in the 90s because I am still pretty sure that was my fault.”

Nicky finally moved, leaning back to look Joe in the eye. “Now who is carrying weight?”

Joe huffed, but couldn’t deny it. He searched Nicky’s gaze as he searched for the right words. “Look, we could tell Nile that we last killed each other in 1981 and 1994 but those weren’t with intent; they were a forced hand and an accident, and neither sounds anywhere near as romantic and cool as two daggers in the heart and a slow death in each other’s arms in 1099.” Joe winked, “That sounds way better, don’t you think?”

Nicky rolled his eyes, “When you phrase it like that, not really.” But he still pulled a smiling Joe in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading! Comments, kudos and bookmarks are always very much loved and appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has also read and reacted to my other Old Guard fic 'A Sense of Immortality' - I will be responding to comments on that asap! 
> 
> [I just cannot cannot wait for a sequel. God I hope there's a sequel and soon. We need flashbacks to Joe and Nicky's meeting like yesterday].


End file.
